“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I’ve got wine, or maybe a beer, or water. I could make tea. Or I’ve got leftover pasta. Or?—”
The words tumbled out in a rush, every offer more frantic than the last, like she could fill the silence with food and drinks instead of feelings.
Murphy’s lips curved, soft and knowing. He let her rattle on for a few seconds before gently cupping her face in his big hands, tilting her gaze up to his.
“Hils,” he said, low and steady. “I’m good. I’ve got everything I need right here.”
Her throat went tight again, but this time for a different reason.
Finn gave a soft little whine at their feet, tail thumping as if to second Murphy’s words.
She huffed out a laugh, embarrassed at how desperate she sounded, and finally nodded. “Okay. But if you change your mind, I’ve got options.”
Murphy chuckled, kissed her forehead, and held her just a little tighter.
Murphy didn’t wait for her nervous offers this time. He shrugged out of his light jacket, draped it over the arm of her chair like he belonged here, and crossed the room with easystrides. Then he sank onto her couch, sprawling in a way that was both casual and grounding.
Finn immediately clambered up beside him, wriggling with excitement until Murphy’s big hand rubbed him down into calmness. The pup let out a happy sigh, curling into the cushions like he owned the place.
Murphy glanced up at her, hazel eyes steady. “So,” he said, voice quiet but direct. “How’ve you been? We . . . haven’t really talked in a while.”
The question landed heavy, heavier than she expected. Because it wasn’t just small talk. It was him saying:I’ve missed you. I’ve noticed the silence. Tell me something real.
Her arms crossed automatically, more armor than comfort, as she leaned back against the counter. “Busy,” she said, too quickly. “Work, you know. Always work.”
Murphy tilted his head, not pushing, just watching her with that maddening mix of patience and quiet intensity. Finn thumped his tail, the sound loud in the charged silence.
And suddenly, the distance she’d been trying to put between them felt like an ocean right there in her living room.
She watched them, Murphy calm and steady, Finn curled loyally against his thigh. How was he so calm when every nerve in her body felt frayed raw?
There was nothing else for it. No stalling, no hiding behind coffee or nervous chatter. They needed to talk.
Her knees felt wobbly as she crossed the room, but she forced herself to keep moving, step after step, until she reached the couch. Murphy shifted slightly, making space, and she lowered herself onto the cushion beside him.
The air was heavy with everything unsaid. Her shoulder brushed his. Solid warmth seeped into her bones. She clasped her hands together in her lap, squeezing them tight to stop the restless tremor.
Murphy turned his head toward her, close enough that she could see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes, the way his lashes dipped when he blinked. “Thanks for letting me bring Finn,” he said softly. “He likes you.”
It was such a simple thing, but her throat tightened anyway.God, this man. Even now, he found ways to make her feel seen.
She drew in a breath, steadying herself. “Murphy,” she said, the word catching like a plea. “We need to talk.”
He didn’t rush her. He just sat there, one hand resting on Finn’s back, waiting. Which was fair. She was the one who had made this bed. They were only here because of her choices.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. “Okay,” she said, forcing the words out before fear could smother them. “I’ll just come right out with it. I know I’ve made a mess of things.”
Murphy’s brow furrowed, but he stayed quiet, letting her go on.
She twisted her fingers together until they ached. “I was so afraid that I would, I don’t know, hold you back. You have this light in you, this joy, and I thought if I kept you too close, I’d ruin it. That I’d drag you down into all my mess and you wouldn’t get to be everything you’re supposed to be.”
Her voice wobbled at the end, but she forced herself to keep looking at him. She owed him that much.
For a beat, the only sound was Finn’s soft snuffling against Murphy’s palm. Then Murphy leaned in, searching her face like he was trying to memorize every flicker of her expression. “Hillary,” he said quietly, “you don’t hold me back. You’re the reason I want more.”
Her breath caught, a fragile, dangerous hope sparking in her chest.
Her throat tightened. “That’s sweet, but you’re so good, Murphy. What could I possibly offer you?”
